


Harper Row: World's Greatest Detective (Book 1 - Lethal Injection)

by Johnny_Charisma



Series: The Alternate Adventures Of The Gotham Girl Gang [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F, I indulge every fucking trope, Seriously it's unreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnny_Charisma/pseuds/Johnny_Charisma
Summary: A SHOW OF DEATH!Fear grips the city of Gotham as a slew of murders springs up out of thin air!A SHOT OF DRAMA!Private detective Harper Row has four days to fight the parasitic plague of Gotham and solve the case but time runs fast!A SULTRY DAME!Is Harper's new client just a regular hotsy-totsy with another case or are her feminine wiles hiding a darker secret?Stay tuned, dear listener, as we follow the latest case of... Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!





	1. A Dame With A Dime

## The Gotham Broadcasting Company presents…

##  _Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective_ , in her latest caper…

Prepare yourself, Cullen, for I will shortly make my entrance with a tale of toxicity and treachery! The low down and the uptown and all that. Now, if we need a name for it, why not call it…

## Lethal Injection!

Murder is a tricky business. You make all the right moves and you've killed several innocent people. One wrong move and it's your head, and no one wants that, except maybe all the souls you've taken. Now, I've no time for criminals, you know that Cullen, but I won't hesitate to say there was one who I had a morbid respect for in the cleanliness of his work. It started the day that dame walked into my office...

**_Bang, bang, bang!_ **

"Come on, Miss Row. Rent is due!" Guess there's no way around it. She'll damn near break the door down if she has to. I put out the cigarette, adjusted my loose tie and ran my hand through my hair. The one case I can't solve is how cases magically dry up right when I gotta pay rent. I paused at the door. I could just climb out onto the fire escape and wait a few. Ah, too cold. Besides, she's probably seen my silhouette through the translucent glass that had my iron-on office sign. I twisted the doorknob hesitantly and came face to face with my landlady, Mrs. Quinn. I did my best to give a polite smile. "Hiya, Harley." She didn't take the bait. "Yeah, yeah, hiya Harley this, how are ya Mrs. Quinn that, howsabout hiya rent or how are ya money?" I tapped the doorframe sheepishly. "I'm real sorry Mrs. Quinn. You see it yourself, I ain't pulling clients like I used to. What with trying to scrape together what little I have for rent and advertising, I can barely eat. Can't you give me a little more time?" She frowned and poked my stomach. "Hmm... You are lookin' a little skinny these days. Look. Harper. You're a nice girl. One of the best tenants I've had in a long time. You don't make noise, you don't disturb others-"

"You know, it's my job to do those two things exactly."

"AND... You do your best. You make an honest living, IF an unstable one. So here’s what. I'm giving you two weeks to detect your rent or you'll be solving cases from under an overpass." I nodded in relief. "Thanks Mrs. Quinn. You're the best." She waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, just don't let it get to your head. You're lucky I like you." I closed the door and leaned up against it for a moment before returning to my desk and sitting down. I loosened my tie again, sighing. I've had a couple of close calls before but none like this. A knock. Mrs. Quinn again? Can't be. A client? Hopefully. "It's open. Mind the smoke." The huskiest voice I've ever heard in my life came from my doorway. "I like the smoke", and a thigh entered, followed by a stunning body in a black dress that you can't help but drag your eyes over. She was an East Asian lady, small, but well-toned, not too far off from my physique, gained from a mix of regular workouts and punching crooks in the face. She was oddly laced with scars, all across any visible skin save for her face, like someone worked her over with a meat cleaver. I don't usually make suspects out of paying clients, but clients don't usually have battle damage this extensive. Still, she was desire on legs and she slid her tempting hips onto my desk, folding one leg over the other, her glittering eyes boring into my soul. I couldn't stop looking at her damn _eyes_ . I was about ready to shut down for the night so my blinds were closed and I had just turned my lamp off, and, as a result, the moonlight streaming through my Venetians made her eyes look inky black, yet bright as the stars. I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to tug at my collar and gulp. "How can I help you, miss...?" She pulled a cigarette from its packet and offered me one. I thanked her and she took my lighter off the desk. Her glassy eyes flared with the fire as she leaned down to light hers, then mine. As it turns out, they were a deep brown. "Cain. Cassandra Cain. Cassie will do. Heard I could find a private dick round here." I nodded. "Public dick too. I assume you're here to help me make rent in the nick of time?" She let out a low chuckle. "That, and also save lives. You ever handle a murder... _detective_?" Some detective. The way she said it, can't figure if she's toying with me or genuinely interested. I pushed the dame out of my mind and sat up. Murders generally pay higher. Sense of urgency and all. "Murder?"

"Several, to be precise. You've seen the spree popping up all over the papers, I'm sure." I nodded. "The Bloodstream Butcher. Victims have black veins, no one knows why. Thought the police had a handle on that, why'd you come to me?" She took a long, thoughtful drag. "Well, I was in the neighbourhood and sensed there was a down on her luck detective in need of rent. Oh, and also this." She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and pushed it to me. A typewritten note.

**11-5-23**

**I come for Cassandra Cain**

**\-- BB**

There was a small image of a padlock, barely visible in the dark, next to the date. I checked over my desk calendar. "Four days starting tomorrow." She pulled out a wallet. "I suppose you'll need spending money Miss Down On Her Luck?" I laughed. "I warn you, my prices aren't to be trifled with, Miss Killer's Next Victim."

"I can match any price."

"Any?"

"Name yours."

"How about a candlelit dinner and tickets for two at the Gotham Multiplex?"

"Moving pretty fast, aren't we _detective_?" That damn tone when she said detective stopped me dead. What dangerous promises lie behind that voice of hers? "Let's start with a grand fifty, see how we feel." A lot steeper than my usual fees but a girl's gotta eat, you understand. Lucky for me, she forked over the clams without hesitation. I almost cried as I set aside the 750 I was going to have to hand to Mrs. Quinn the next morning. "Guess we'd better get started. There's going to be a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of coffee. I hope you're ready for the life of a P.I.s client, doll." I picked up today's paper, ripped off the front page and went over to the wall I use to visualise my thoughts, pasting it up dead in the middle with thumbtacks. I linked the typewritten note with string and grabbed a Sharpie, circling the date and Cassandra Cain. "Help me out here, Cassie. Something the old noggin can't get around. Why "Cassandra Cain"? Why not address you directly? How did you get the note?" She moved from the desk to my ratty couch. "I work as a jazz singer, detective." Figures. "That was given to me by one of my coworkers in a sealed envelope. She said some guy dropped it off, never got a good description of him. Had his hat pulled down low, didn't make eye contact and the like. She assumed he was another creep hoping to get more than they deserved. Once we opened it, my manager put me on leave with pay. Spent the rest of the day searching for a detective, found your ad in the paper and you know the rest." I chewed on my lip, considering my options. She didn't write it. Of course the Butcher would try and stay hidden, but there's also the possibility, minimal as it would be, that her coworker wrote it, as a prank or something more, either one swung fine with me. "Why does he want to get snuggly with you? Aside from two obvious reasons, of course." She took a long drag on the cigarette and let out a husky laugh that drove me wild. "We'd better be talking about my legs."

"What else?"

"Hm. Well, I can't see anything I've done personally. We get a lot of men hanging around to get some tail but we kick em to the curb. Usually, they give a grumble but go home to their wives to whom they are married without further complaint."

"And you think one of them didn't take it as graciously?" She shrugged and puffed and sighed. "That's _my_ best lead. You're the detective." A valid suggestion. I grabbed the Sharpie and wrote 'entitlement?' on a scrap of paper and pinned it. I put on my tan trench coat, donned my fedora and holstered my revolver. "Where do you work, Miss Cain? This is the part where the dashing detective hits the beat."

$19.39 and a 20-minute cab ride later we pulled up at a respectable jazz club, to which Cass allowed us easy access through the employees entrance. A blonde in a purple satin dress and her hair in a messy bun looked me up and down as I entered the changing rooms. "This your gumshoe, Cain?" she said, not quite judgemental, but wary. It's an abused turn of phrase to say that you shouldn't be nervous if you've got nothing to hide but in my line of work, it pays to be suspicious of everyone. Cass patted her shoulder. "I'd prefer no one die today, Stephanie. You'll be wanting to speak to Barbara, detective. She'll be waiting tables probably. Redhead, freckles, nice girl. Stick around, I have my set in a bit." I tipped my hat at Stephanie and moved out into the bar. The seats in the main area were sparsely populated and the bar was unsurprisingly empty - Monday nights are slow going everywhere in town. The redhead Cass described for me was, as promised, waiting tables, placing trays down then handing out glasses. Easy on the eyes but clearly distraught. I took a seat at the bar to wait and frowned. She was wearing so much perfume, it lingered in the air, even while she was away. She returned. "'Scuse me miss." She flicked her head up at me and rubbed her chest, as if startled. Clearly, I'd pulled her from some deep thought. "Oh... Hi there honey, what can I get you?" I shook my head and placed my hat on the table. "How about some answers?" Realisation crept over her face and she nearly dropped the glass, but caught it just in time. Barbara cleared her throat and leaned in real close, her fist pressed tightly against her chest, the scent of her perfume almost choking me. "Now listen, I want no trouble, so please, just..."

"Trouble? Oh no, no, no, I'm a private detective, Miss Cain is my client." She pulled back in shock. "Detective? Well, that's a welcome surprise. I guess you're here about the note."

"I was. What's trouble?" She waved me off, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Oh nothing. Let me get you a drink, on the house." OK, Row. You've been on no cases for almost three months. Let's see if you still got it. "I guess that chest injury is nothing too, huh?" Her grip tightened on the glass she placed in front of me. Jackpot. I instinctively pulled the bottle back to stop my glass from overflowing. My old man, asshole that he was, he was wise about not wasting perfectly good whiskey. Barbara whispered harshly at me. "Wh- how did you... Oh, never mind. Detective. Right." I raised the glass and winked at her. "Detective." She smiled back. "I changed my mind, P.I. Tell me how you did it, I wanna know." I took a sip. "When I called you, you looked up and rubbed your chest. Sudden movement caused your wound to shift and scrape against the cotton underneath your shirt, which I noticed when you leaned in to ask for no trouble. That sent a jolt of pain through you. The very well done stitching of your shirt is invisible to most but not someone who's entire job description revolves around spotting minor details. Your injury was caused by a narrowly avoided knife slash and sustained last week sometime - you've obviously had time to clean the shirt and tend to your wounds. As I watched you wait tables, you wouldn't bend down and hand out drinks as most do. You placed the tray on the table, then handed out drinks then moved off. You didn't want any questions in case someone noticed your hidden first aid efforts. Lastly, the copious perfume - to hide the metallic smell of dried blood. This much definitely isn't needed but you want to be 100% sure." She clapped lightly. "Very well done. It's true, I got mugged last week. I can't afford to be off this job by any cost. Stanton - uh, the owner of this joint - he'd say I was unfit to work and pull me off shifts. He means well, Stanton. Sometimes a little too well, see? Nevertheless, you've proven rudimentary skills, you may ask away." I took another sip and pulled my trusty notepad and pen from inside my jacket. "Who handed Ms. Cain the note once the shady man delivered it?"

"You'd have to ask the girls. I wasn't in this morning."

"Not time for your shift, I take it?"

"No."

"Babs- can I call you Babs?"

"Free country."

"Babs, what were you doing this morning? Everything from waking up to heading in for your shift."

"Come now detective, you don't think-"

"I just like to be thorough, Babs. This morning…?"

"I was at home all morning. Reading. Drinking coffee. Listening to the radio serials. If you'd like to be extra thorough, I can give you my address, you can ask my neighbour, Old Mrs. Lewinsky. I help her take out the trash."

"Truly a model citizen. What time did the man arrive?”

“I hear it was pretty early actually. We open at 8 and have a maintenance man come in at 7.00, just for some routine checks. Packed up at the usual time of 7.30, passed on the note. I assume Cassandra told you he wasn’t keen on being noticed.”

“Yeah, I got that impression.”

“Anyway, he was out of here quick sharpish. By the time I got to work, police cars had surrounded the building. Guess when you’ve just threatened someone with murder, you can’t exactly hang around.” I laughed. “No, I suppose not.” Barbara glanced over my face. “Something turning in your mind, detective?” Could say that. “Just… this all seems very clean and dry. Organised, ya know?” She leaned in close, her perfume attacking me once more. “You think this could be an inside job?” I nodded and finished my whiskey. “Always a possibility, doll. Mind if I question your colleagues?” She collected my glass and smiled as I headed off into the back rooms. It didn't take long to find my next interviewee, given her door was propped wide open. “Stephanie, was it?” The blonde looked up from applying her lipstick and smiled, as if she'd been expecting me. “Are you here to put me in handcuffs, detective?” she asked as she slowly sauntered over.

“Only if you’ve been bad.”

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take you in for questioning?”

“Not at all.”

“Barbara told me a maintenance man does a half-hour routine check starting 7 in the PM, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Is there a regular guy?”

“Regular guys. But yeah, we’ve gotten familiar with the roster. Assumed it was a new hire pretty much.”

“I need the name of the engineer who was supposed to come in yesterday.”

“Sure thing, gumshoe.” She handed me the company’s contact information and I thanked her. “And one more thing. I have a… friend. Works down at the coroner’s. I’ll phone ahead, try to get you a good look at one of the bodies. Maybe that’ll help.” I almost collapsed. I don’t believe in coincidence, but I’m quite partial to luck and as they say, blondes are very lucky. OK, well no one says that but it's something I'd like started. On many cases I've taken, both when I was with police and since I struck out on my own, there's always been a blonde who had some vital information to help me solve it. “That’d be mighty big of you, Steph. Thank you so much.” I left but she called out to me. “Oh, detective?” I turned at the door. She crossed the room, cornering me against the wall, sliding her hand across my chest and into my jacket pocket, dropping a card in. “You forgot one more number.” She kissed me on the cheek, dragging her thigh up against mine. “Do call, won’t you?” Flustered, I merely nodded and left. As I passed various singers in the tight back room corridors, either killing time until their set or just got in, I asked them who got handed the note until I reached Dinah. Another blonde. Older lady. Black dress that left a lot less to the imagination than was probably necessary, with fishnets. Easily the most attractive woman I've seen in my life. "Yeah. Creepy dude. Dressed as the maintenance guy. I got the door for him. Thought he was a new hire. Now he wants one of my girls six feet under." I asked for anything she could volunteer. Identifying marks. A certain inflection to his voice. Anything out of the ordinary. Hell, even if he smelled bad. Once again, thank god for blondes. My lucky charms. "Yeah, I remember. You meet some weirdos in Gotham, that's no secret. But this guy… had some kinda raspy, deep voice. The kind that makes a chill pound your spine. What looked like scars best I could see. Not sure what type of scars though." It wasn't a lot but it was something. It was enough. Scars narrow down the search a bit. And the specific voice helps a lot too. Now I had the man, I thought it best to find the motive. Steph got back to me with that coroner friend of hers. Don't know if I trust her yet, but she's been forthcoming thus far. Until then, I sat back and watched Cass's set.

She was divine.

\---

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, detective." Steph was telling the truth, for now. Turns out she really could get me in with a coroner. Her friend went by the name of Tim Drake, a tall, athletic man, handsome enough but very dishevelled and understandably smelled like death. Probably only gets sleep at the office. Hopefully, he wasn't married. Can't imagine the strain this job puts on long-term relationships. Cass had insisted on coming along for the ride and I put up no protest. "Me and a few of the others in the autopsy department have been trying to get the blues to look at some of these new findings but they're too self absorbed to pay attention to the freaks in the death lab. That damn pride of theirs, I s'pose." I patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Maybe they were told not to. Paid off?" Cass suggested. Corrupt cops are an obvious fact in Gotham. How it pertains to this case specifically, I'd need more clues, but an interesting note I filed away in my brain for later. "Maybe. But you're not here about bureaucracy. Do you mind not doing that?" Cass froze, a cigarette halfway out of the packet. I looked at her. "We're only here a bit, toots." She shrugged and pushed the cigarette back in. He pulled out a body drawer. If I recall from the papers, Maximilian Zeus. Latest victim. Tim lifted the left arm. "See here, along the forearm." A few deep brown flecks scattered along the skin. "Dried blood?" He shook his head. "Rust, detective. Rust. From chains. The way the wrist has been bruised and cut? Strapped down, most likely yanking to get out." My eyes were drawn to the chest and leaned closer, doing my best to ignore the smell. Pinpricks. Four, in a row, the black veins more prominent here. "Hey Doc, what do you make of these syringe wounds? Guess that supernatural theory the papers were throwing around ain't nothin." To my surprise, Cass spat at the mere mention of the tools. "Needles," she growled. "Terrified to death of the goddamn things and hate them twice as much too." Tim laughed. "No bad experiences, only bad doctors." She turned to go examine some other surgical devices. "Oh yeah. One very bad doctor." I went up to her. "Hey. You good?" She nodded and waved me off. "Just… bad memories, detective. Bad memories that leave a bad taste in my mouth." I didn't like seeing her like this but her dollars were put towards catching this guy, not playing therapist. So I patted her shoulder and went back to the body. "Well, detective you're trying to catch him. What do you make of the punctures?" I considered a moment. "The black veins… He's injecting them with something. Medical background, maybe. He's going through bodies, testing, refining and testing again. He won't stop until he's got the perfect formula and then… dispersion, I suppose." The coroner frowned. "Dispersion?" Before I could answer, the door burst open. "FREEZE!" A young man stood there, revolver drawn. Instinctively, I went for mine in return but Cass' hand stopped me as I realised the man was wearing a GCPD uniform. Tim was less reactive. "Officer, this is a coroner's office, I assure you the criminals you find here will not be signing a confession form any time soon." My knees went weak as a familiar voice approached. "Damian, put the gun down you loose cannon idiot. Go cool off and get some of that grease they call coffee." I stared in awe as Dick Grayson entered and I saw a similar reaction spark in him. "NOW, Damian." The rookie beat cop walked away, fuming. "Harper." I nodded at my old partner. "Sorry about him, he goes off sometimes."

"Well hey, if he likes almost empty cupboards and irritable landlords, the private investigator field is always open. It's why I quit." He laughed and closed the door behind him. "Damian is my new partner. Sometimes it's like you never left." We hugged and I pulled away as I processed what he had just said. "Wait, what happened to Jason?" Dick's face told me everything I needed to know. "I'm sorry. We were assigned a few cases together every now and then. He was a good man. We worked well together." I wiped away his tear. "This is my new client, Cassandra Cain." Dick exhaled and smiled and kissed the back of her hand, eliciting a giggle. I couldn't explain it but somehow that filled me with unfathomable jealousy. I interrupted a little more harshly than I had intended. "We're looking for the Bloodstream Butcher. She's apparently her next victim. We have four days to figure out how to stop him." Dick sighed. "Yeah, I know. Well, not this specifically." He gestured to Cass. "This is news to me, but it's why I'm here. You're not supposed to be here and you need to stop looking for the Bloodstream Butcher." Cass stepped in front of him. "Wh-what?" He placed a hand on her shoulder apologetically. "This is an ongoing police investigation, Harper. If you want to help us, you can provide us with whatever info you have already then but get off the case but you cannot arrest or shoot this guy." I wasn't mad. I could see it in his eyes, he knows this guy is a murderer and needs to be stopped. But his sense of justice is barricaded by his duty to do things by the book. I know what it's like to have the chief breathing down your neck. "I guess I could… take care of Ms. Cain. Talk to the Commissioner. Put her in a holding cell until the days are up." Honestly, I was about ready to agree, for old times' sake but a hand on my arm distracted me. Cass silently gripped my bicep and wouldn't let go. "I feel safer with her." She said, staring hard at Grayson. He stood there a moment and turned to leave, then paused. "You won't stop investigating, will you?" I shook my head. "Thanks to her, I eat this month and keep the lights on. I owe it to her to see this through." He pushed on the door but didn't walk through. "I'll tell the gang you said hey." He left. "Hey, Grayson!" His head peeked round the door. "We could be partners again you know." Dick smiled. "Someday."

Cass accompanied me home ("it's dangerous for pretty girls to walk the streets alone during the day," she had said) and we turned to my detective board. It didn't take us long to get everything pinned up and rearranged but eventually we had coherent notes. A torn sheet of paper on which I had written 'The Bloodstream Butcher' sat in the middle. From there I linked the threatening note, a note about the rust and a note about the puncture wounds. Another note with 'Suspects' written was attached, which is what we were trying to figure out. "Why is my name up there?" Cass looked mad at the fact I had put her name under suspects. "It just helps me think. I list everyone I've ever talked to since taking the case and cross off the obvious ones. Don't take it personal, doll." I scratched off her name, along with Dinah and Dick's. "So that just leaves Stephanie, the engineer guy (obviously the prime suspect) and Tim." She lay down on my couch and frowned. "Are you saying the creepy man who threatened my life… isn't the murderer?" I sighed and removed my already undone tie. "Look, obviously I think he is. It's pretty obvious he is. But I've been wrong before. He may just be a messenger. He can still be charged for accessory to murder but it might not be him doing the work." She got up and moved behind me, sliding her arms around my chest. "Mmm. Mighty fine work, _detective_. You got a taste for steak? Maybe Italian? I thought tonight, we could-" She jumped off of me as my apartment door flew open. This time, she didn't stop me as I grabbed my gun from its holster. "DAMIAN! STOP JUST BUSTING DOORS OPEN!" I lowered the revolver and Cass and I sighed in a strange mix of irritation and relief. "Dick? Is that you, honey?" Cass called out into the hallway. "Yes, it's me, Ms. Cain." He appeared in my doorway and pulled Damian's gun off him then sent him away. "I WILL make sure the chief takes damages to the detective's door out of your pay!" He yelled. I glanced at the door. The area around the doorknob was slightly splintered and the top hinge was torn off. Easily repairable myself but I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to have someone else do it. "What can I help you with, Grayson?" He exhaled deeply. "OK. Here's how it is. The mayor is coming down hard on the DA which means the DA is pressuring the Chief which means the Chief is pressuring the Commissioner which means the Commissioner is pressuring us. Now, the Chief is under the impression that we could… oh jeez, we could… I want you both to know, I think it's a terrible idea, and if it was up to me, I…" I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Hey, Dick. It's OK, take your time." He shook his head. Cass however, wasn't so forgiving. She pushed past me and slammed Dick into the wall.

"They want to use me as bait for the Butcher."

## Will our determined detective stay true to her word? Or will she take pity on her oldest friend?

## Can Cassandra admit how she feels about Harper before she meets her grisly fate?

## Is Stephanie hiding something more sinister under that beautiful blonde exterior?

## Find out on the next episode of…

##  _Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!_

## Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!


	2. Graveyard Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harper's investigation takes a dark turn as she is led down a new path! The Butcher has her running in circles and somebody knows more than they are letting on! Stay tuned, dear listener, as we follow the latest case of... Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!
> 
> Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!

## On the last episode of…

##  _Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!_

## Private eye Harper Row finds herself in the employ of a dame, seemingly in the nick of time!

## But events turn sour as it becomes apparent the vicious killer known as the Bloodstream Butcher is after Harper’s client!

## Now face to face with an old ally, Harper Row must stop the GCPD from using Cassandra as live bait in…

##  _Harper Row, World’s Greatest Detective!_

## 

## Part 2 – Graveyard Shift

"What can I help you with, Grayson?" He exhaled deeply. "OK. Here's how it is. The mayor is coming down hard on the DA which means the DA is pressuring the Chief which means the Chief is pressuring the Commissioner which means the Commissioner is pressuring us. Now, the Chief is under the impression that we could… oh jeez, we could… I want you both to know, I think it's a terrible idea, and if it was up to me, I…" I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Hey, Dick. It's OK, take your time." He shook his head. Cass however, wasn't so forgiving. She pushed past me and slammed Dick into the wall.

"They want to use me as bait for the Butcher.” Of course they do. God damn it, of course they do. Too many damn cops in this city who value a paycheck above human life, it makes the good ones go sour. I shouldn’t blame Dick. Just following orders and all that. But still, I can’t help but feel the blood boil. I pried Cass off of him. “Miss Cain, I don’t suppose you’ve got any other ideas that would help us? Not that I’m at ALL down with this terrible plan. I just want an alternative.” Cass stuttered in simmering anger. “Wh- I- ARGH! GOD DAMN, I DON’T KNOW! Not that plan, though!” We stood there in our silences, Cass in her angry silence, Dick in his shamed silence, me in my stunned silence. “Look, Dick. You’re my friend and a damn fine cop and I respect the hell out of you but, and I mean no offence, shove your offer up your ass.” I took Cass by the arm and moved her behind me. He chuckled and turned to leave. “I’ll tell the Chief you were uncooperative then?” I nodded. “You do that, Grayson. Again, no offence, but get the fuck out of my office.” He gave a last glance then left without another word. Cass walked back around to face me. “What say we put on some records, pour some scotch and you could tell me what happened with you two?” So we did just that. I poured the Jack. She put on the jazz. We sat. I talked. She listened. “It was winter, 1919. I’m not… I’m not proud of it but to be frank, I signed up for the cops a few months back because I knew they had it made. Told myself I could make a difference from the inside, but deep down, I knew I just wanted steady figures. I went along, for the most part. Did the dirty deals. Looked the other way. One day, I get assigned to Grayson. Standard patrol, just circling a couple of blocks on the Lower East side, nothing fancy. We stop off for our usual lunch at out usual diner and he was… quiet. Which was unnerving. He’s chatty, it’s part of his charm. And he looked at me and he… He said…”

_“Believe in the people.”_

“Believe in the people?”

“Yeah.”

_“Believe that you can make a difference. Believe that you don’t have to corrupt what you stand for just to better your life. Believe that they will accept your help, if you offer. Gotham City is a dark shithole filled with the worst scumbags on Earth. You can’t believe in Gotham. But you can believe in the people of Gotham, and you can believe in their capacity for good.”_

“Then we left. Paid and went back to the squad car. I turned that over in my mind my whole career, short-lived as it was. I stopped taking blood money. Started doing things by the book. Quit 1922, opened the office a few weeks later.” Cass downed the whiskey and levelled that hard, inescapable gaze at me, leaning in close and placing her hand on my chest. “Well, _detective_ , it seems to me like you’re about as honest as I’m going to get. I won’t have to worry about any… relapses, will I?” Her face was straight as a line, but her eyes betrayed her feelings of worry and despair. “No, baby. I’m clean now and I’ve always been clean since I got out. I ain’t gonna let you down, doll.” She stroked my cheek and placed her head on my shoulder. Slowly, and cautiously, I pulled her in closer as we listened to the rain. There’s never a sunny day in Gotham. If there was, everyone would be able to see the dirt and the grime and the rust. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe the rain will have washed away all the filth, giving the impression that Gotham’s clean. But it’s not clean. It’s never clean. It’s Gotham is a hospital. Ideally, it should be a place of healing and yes, there are some bits and pieces of healing here and there, Bruce Wayne and Kathy Kane doing what they can and all. DA Dent trying to make good on promises he knows he can’t keep. Commissioner Gordon rooting out the corruption, god bless him. That doesn’t stop it from being filled with blood and infection, the sick and dying wailing out as they’re experimented on-

Wait a second. Wait wait wait wait wait a second.

I raised Cass off my shoulder and stood up, going over to the board and pulled off the map of Gotham with the kidnapping sites marked out. “Miss Cain, if you’d be so kind as to get my jacket?” I heard her get up and straighten out her dress as she moved to the hook. “May I ask where you’re headed?” I shot her a smile as I grabbed my fedora. “To answers, baby. I’m headed to answers. Open the door for only myself, Grayson and Mrs. Quinn. Stay here and pretend you’re not home.” She folded her arms and stared at me grumpily. “And just what do you suggest I do in the meantime?” I opened my door. “Look over the board. Play detective. Who knows, when all this is said and done… I might have need for a partner.” She chuckled and tenderly took my wrist as I was about to step out. “Harper, I…” She bit her lip and looked to the floor. Her sadness was almost imperceptible, but I recognised it instantly. The sadness of regret. “Cassandra, what’s wrong?” She looked up and shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts then smiled at me. “It’s nothing. Just a silly question. Sorry to keep you, detective. Go now. Detect.” I wanted to press further but with a murderer on the loose and after her, time was not something I had to spare so I swallowed my curiosity and put her aside. The answers I needed would be at city hall. I nodded reflexively at the receptionist as I passed by. I wasn’t exactly an uncommon face around this joint, and she had resigned to letting me by with a tired, unthinking wave. The body Tim showed me had rust on the wrist, possibly from chains while he was being experimented on. Gotham’s a big city, but not big enough. I can’t claim to know every name of every street and every back alley, but I know there are only so many buildings that match the case and they could be found in the city planning archives. An old hospital decommissioned a year and a half ago, originally headed for demolition, but the DA and city council wanted to put more money into the police force, and it wasn’t hurting anyone, so they threw up some fencing and forgot about it for the time being. Kids say it’s haunted, faint screams, chains clinking, so on. I say it’s got a new tenant.

It was dark by the time I arrived. Spent longer in the archives than I thought. Security was laughable to say the least. Several tears in the chain link fence for me to lift and crouch under, but if I so chose, a good few strikes with the butt of my revolver would shatter the rusted padlock a few feet down. I thought the stealth approach best, though. Quietly as I could, I entered the building and clicked on my flashlight, my revolver raised in anticipation. The air was a foul evil, the smell of antiseptic mixed with dust and mould. I prayed the air wasn’t toxic yet but who could tell. I checked every room until my flashlight beam landed on a combination safe. The room it was in was cleaner than the rest, even the air. An operating room in the basement, with chains taken from the fences outside for added security when the bastard would run his sick tests on those poor people. Vials, mixtures and other foul-smelling chemicals sat next to syringes of varying shapes and sizes. I pocketed a vial of a light green liquid to look into later. But the safe. Even for this clean room, it was clean. Brand-new I’d bet. This was a set up. Too easy. Too obvious. He placed it here, knew I was coming somehow. The room is booby trapped, the safe is booby trapped, he’s waiting to take me when I leave, he’s in the room right now, hidden behind a false wall or something. The bastard wanted me here, but I couldn’t back out now. He wants me to play his games, fine, I’ll play. But how to open? I can’t exactly shoot the lock off. Wait, the padlock. The padlock imprint on the threatening note, the code is the date the Butcher will kill Cassie! Still got it. I twisted the knob back and forth, entering 11-5-23. With a faint rapid clicking, the safe door popped open to reveal a folder containing some pictures of a warehouse and an address. He's practically inviting me into his hideout, the rat bastard. So maybe this hospital isn't a trap, it's an invitation to the trap. Either way, I gotta get him. Somehow he knows I'm onto him, but I'll look into that after I catch him. Time to finish this.

It took an hour's ride in the cab but when I told the driver I was trying to stop the serial killer all the papers were clamouring about, he switched off the meter and said he'd wait until I was done. There are still some kind souls in this world. It was much like the hospital - rusty chains, busted fences. Easy to break into. As I stepped in, the foul stench of rot sucker punched me so hard, I threw up right then and there on the doorstep. I wiped my mouth and soldiered on until I found the source of the smell. Dead bodies. 20, maybe 30, possibly even 50. It was hard to tell, they were all clustered together on meat hooks. I threw up again. All this time… and nobody knew!! Difficult though it was, I managed to wrench my eyes away from the naked men and women wasting away and turned to a clean table, well-lit by a lamp that was plugged into extension cord after extension cord. On it, another file. I grumbled as I rifled through what was surely another clue to a final trap but this time, I found no addresses. Research notes. Chemical formulas scratched out and readjusted and circled then scratched out again. Hm. If the hospital was his experimentation room then this was some kind of… study? For lack of a better term. A place to refine his twisted findings. And when the test subjects die… I pushed the thought of the meat hooks out of my mind and picked up the research notes when the sirens caught my attention. Who called the cops? Cassie doesn't know I'm here. The only people who know I'm even on the case are Grayson and- "BUTCHER!" Even with the megaphone, the voice was faint. "COME OUT UNARMED AND WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" Shit. I sprinted out the loading bay and buried the research notes and chemical vial under a box then skirted round the side of the building pausing at the side. "All right, I'm assuming you've got your guns out but do not shoot! My name is Harper Row! I am a licensed private detective investigating the Bloodstream Butcher! Is Detective Richard Grayson there?" I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard him yell "hold your fire! Thompson, go call the men back." Stepping out, I rushed towards Grayson and hugged him tight, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, Dick! There's so many more bodies than the papers say!" He shuffled uncomfortably. "What is it? I asked, wiping my eyes. He removed his hat. "Harper, we… we got an anonymous tip saying the Butcher was here. Now I'm not saying it's you, but the call and then we show up and you're the only one here, the cab driver says he took you up and, what, you say there's more bodies? Christ… anyway, we're gonna have to take you in for questioning. Sorry." I sniffled and nodded, the realisation of how this must look dawning on me. "It's OK." I placed his hat back on him and headed to the squad car. "Just following orders, right? Do me a favour, as soon as you can, go to my apartment and get Cassie to come to the station?" He cuffed me as I got into the backseat and offered me a grim smile. "Will do."

## How will Harper get out of custody?

## Where will the Butcher's wild goose chase lead her next?

## Who knows more than they're letting on?

## Find out on the next episode of…

##  _Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!_

## Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fancy college boy now. This fic was much, much shorter than I'd like and nowhere near as refined but the motivation has been in short supply. Still working out the kinks of D&DC but progress is slow these days. Still, I wanna do a Harper Row Halloween special and I'm taking a dip into Marvel for another fic I have waiting in the wings. Might wrap up this fic before continuing with D&DC.


	3. Into The Depths Of Terror

##  On the last episode of…

##  _ Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective! _

##  The Heroine Who’s Down On Her Luck ends up in jail, framed as the Bloodstream Butcher!

## 

##  But both her and her ex-partner Dick Grayson smell something a bit fishy and they want to find out why!

## 

##  Now, time runs out for Cassandra Cain as the mysterious Bloodstream Butcher draws near in the final chapter of…

## 

##  Harper Row, World’s Greatest Detective!

## 

##  Part 3 – Into The Depths Of Terror

The morning after I was brought in, Cass rushed into my cell and hugged me, Dick following close behind and taking a seat. “Cass here attested to your whereabouts last night. But we still need to talk.” I nodded as he uncuffed me. “Why frame me if he knew I was gonna get out within the next day? Why lead me there in the first place?”

“Right.”

“The bodies I found… That’s how he must be disposing of them. A furnace in the warehouse maybe?”

"Correct."

"So how is he moving between the hospital where he experiments and the warehouse where he erases?" He shrugged. "Sewers, most likely. But I'm yet to find any sort of connecting path. We're still looking. I'll call you if anything comes up. Other than that, you're free to go." I stood, thanked him and left the police station, heading for my apartment, wondering all the while. I found myself taking peeks at different manholes and grates, wondering if he could be scurrying underneath my feet with the rats. When we got in I poured Cass a whiskey and leaned into my desk, sighing deeply and rubbing my eyes. “So. There’s this murderer running around. We’ve got two more days to figure this out. He wants you next. He experiments in an abandoned hospital and takes the bodies - via sewer, we think - to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, where he burns them, probably. So what don’t we know?” Cassandra shrugged and sipped from her glass. “You’re the detective.” I frowned at her playfully. “OK, OK. Umm… Why hasn’t he made a direct attack yet?” I nodded at her with a knowing smile and gestured to keep going. “Why… Wait, you said he puts bodies on meat hooks? Why not dispose of the evidence immediately? What makes them special?”

“Hey, you’re good at this.”

“How is he moving the bodies? Why me specifically? How was he choosing the victims before?” I put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “OK super sleuth, keep going and you’ll put me out of business by the end of the day! Now, if only we had a-” Wait what the fuck am I saying? Of course I have a lead! In the rush of this morning I almost forgot! “Harper? Babe, you got something?” I grinned at her. “Two things actually! Stay here, go through my old murder cases, see if you can find any possible way bodies were moved. I’ll go get the evidence later, but lunch first!”

“Ooh, if you’re going to Big Belly Burger, get me a double cheeseburger!”

“Will do!” I called back as I shut the door. I heard it reopen as I headed down the hall. “And a banana shake!”

I returned to the warehouse later that afternoon. The police were all out front or inside so it was easy enough for me to sneak into the loading bay, find the box I buried the chemical and research notes under then scatter. My first stop was Tim, the coroner. He was surprised to see me, and I got the impression he was surprised to see anyone return, given the nature of his occupation. "Harper, wh-"

"You got an office? Somewhere private?" I peered round each corner and desk. "Why, yes of course, I'm lead coroner, but-" Finding the door that matched his job title I stuffed him into it, closed the door behind me and placed the vial on the desk, on top of the research notes. "I need you to run toxicology on this." He stared at me blankly, then gingerly lifted the pale green liquid to the light, turning it over in his hands. "What is it?" I shut his office blinds. “The toxin manufactured by the Bloodstream Butcher. I wanna know what it is and what it does to a human. That folder is his research. I was never good at chemistry but from what I can tell it's some kind of hallucinogen. The vial slipped out of his hands. I hit my head on the side of his desk as I dove to catch it. Standing up and rubbing my forehead that would surely bruise, I placed it on the desk. “You’re sure this is his?” I nodded. “He took me on a little tour of his hideouts, I’ve no idea why. Showing off maybe. Some weird mind game, also viable. Snagged it while I was at his little lab.” He held it up to the light again examining it with morbid fascination. I guess when you work in a coroner’s office, everything is morbid. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, sure. Come back in a few hours. Say, 10?” I patted his shoulder. “Thanks Tim.”

“What do you got for me, doll?” When Cass pulled me in by the shirt in excitement, I figured something was up. She had laid out three maps, two I recognised as the sewer and abandoned subway systems. The third was unfamiliar to me. “I checked the sewer system and nothing. There’s a way into the hospital but not the warehouse. A few tunnels come close though. Then I checked the old subway system. Again, came close to each location but no direct way in. I was struggling for a bit but then it hit me - what if he's using both?" I clapped lightly. "You're a natural." She kissed my cheek and continued, an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to the third map. "Why, thank you  _ detective _ . See, there's a way into the hospital through the sewers and the subway comes pretty close to the warehouse but I couldn't find a way to connect the two until!" She slammed a finger into the third map. "Acting on a hunch, a phone call and some pretty words to your Grayson friend got me a map of Gotham's mine system from its wild west days. This, the most recent copy, from 1887, indicates an entrance right under the warehouse. So, here's my theory. He enters through the sewer, into the subway, possibly through a damaged wall or something, takes the subway up, and again, most likely through a damaged wall, enters the mine system and exits through that." I fell into a stunned silence for a few moments then grabbed her face and kissed her forehead. "You're genius. Absolute genius. I got a date with the ripperdoc toots, but in the meantime, what say you and me go get that candlelit dinner and movie and after, we can look over the rest of the notes and find out why he wants you?" She drew closer and kissed me. "I can get behind that."

As agreed, I arrived at Tim's office around 10. He was, understandably, shaken. "Whatever the hell you've brought me into detective, I've never seen anything quite like it. You were right in suspecting a hallucinogen. The serum, for explanation’s sake and lack of a better term,  _ latches _ onto the amygdala and amplifies your sense of fear and dread, which would explain the wrist injuries. They hallucinate their biggest fears and struggle against the chains. That would also explain a lot of chipped and bleeding fingernails." I scratched the back of my head. “So… he makes people terrified… and what? Writes it down?”

“If this research is any indication, yes. He’s a very good scientist too, notes are... well organised.” I chuckled. “Well, let’s not compliment the mass murderer just yet, he’s still after my client. I’ll see what else I can dig up back at my place, merge notes and such. Thanks, Drake.” As I left the morgue, I was surprised to almost run headfirst into Cassandra. The air was frosty enough that most people were inside, so thankfully no one heard my embarrassing shriek. “Cassie?” I panted, clutching my chest in fear. “I thought you were back at the apartment.” She shrugged. “Well, this maniac said he wouldn’t kill me until two days from now so I figure I’d go get some snacks and talk to Dinah about coming back to work.” She made an excellent point but it didn’t stop me from getting the shakes. “It’s still dangerous, doll. You really want to trust the word of a madman?” She shrugged nonchalantly. Something something face of adversity, I suppose. "Coming back to work, huh?" She eased me up against the wall and leaned in close. "I have faith that a big, strong detective like you can save me." I laughed. "You know I've been in this position before."

"Oh? Let me guess. My dear friend Stephanie."

"That's correct, ma'am."

"Oh, Stephanie plays. It's a test. She wants to see how much it takes to put you on edge. Get you to break down. Like a lion toying with its prey. Me, on the other hand, I'm a little harder to please. You know I saw her briefly, before I moved in with you. She talked a lot about you." I merely cleared my throat nervously. "Oh yes. She evaluated you and gave a… rough estimation… of your sexual prowess."

"Oh really? How'd I do?" She backed down and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "She doesn't know. She'd have to… experiment."

"Well, I still have her number. I'll have to provide research materials I suppose."

"I'd recommend it, detective. She can be quite inventive." Patting down my pockets, in an attempt not to get too red in the cheeks, I asked “you don’t happen to have smokes on you, do ya?” She produced a packet from her cleavage, pulled out two cigarettes and handed me one. “You know, apparently these things’ll kill you.” She laughed. “Good. That way I can die on my terms.” I thought that was noble. We reached for our lighters, but mine wouldn’t go. “Here…” she leaned in close and lit mine with her cigarette, our eyes attached like magnets as she dipped down. I thought back to the day we first met and how the flame from my lighter illuminated those beautiful peepers of hers. Now, it was a much softer light, the sharp fire replaced with glowing embers. She pulled the cigarette away but didn’t move back. She blew her smoke into my face, more out of circumstance than purposeful intent yet I couldn’t help but wonder. I’ve been distracted but I’m not completely oblivious. “That better…  _ detective _ ?” I nodded, her entrancing gaze forbidding me from using my voice. I pushed past the nerves and turned on my rough approximation of the charm. “Would a... lonely dame like you... want to come up out of the cold?” A sly smile crept onto her face. “Why detective, how very bold of you.” Gently brushing past her, I extended my hand behind me, which she took, chasing all the chill out of me.

"You'd think there'd be a base of operations. It's possible he lives in the hospital but I think he's evil, not crazy. He must live a dual life of some kind." It had been an hour since we came up and we put most of the pieces together. What he’s doing, and how. Where he’s doing it. We regarded the when as irrelevant, this jamoke was a little sporadic. How he disposes of bodies. All that was left is why and who, two facts that seemed unwilling to reveal themselves. This time had been spent on the Who aspect. “It’d definitely serve to throw off the trail. We’ve got the abandoned subway and sewers for his… work purposes… but a location way off could provide a safe haven to lay low.” As it turned out, Cass was a natural at detective work. She had a long way to go of course, but picking up all the little details, making the links, testing its connection to the case, all very nicely done. I might actually hire her when all this is said and done. Provided she makes it out of this alive, that is. Sometimes I hate thinking about the future. "Or it could be right under our noses. So where do you think it is?" Cass frowned as she considered the option then shook her head. "If this is a test, I'm afraid my detective skills aren't that good." It was a test but I wasn't about to tell her that, she's under enough stress, good enough as she is at hiding it. "Well, like everything else it's a shot in the dark but the preferable choice would be the unrelated path. Anonymity is a powerful tool and he'd want somewhere completely disconnected from the warehouse and the hospital." I flipped through the research notes absent-mindedly, not bothering to read it anymore and tossed it against the wall, growling in frustration. Cass walked over to it to retrieve it. I apologised and she waved me off. "He might be too good, honestly." Cass was frozen in the corner and I asked her if she was OK. "You… might want to clear your obviously incredibly lucrative stream of clients tomorrow." I sat upright immediately and she grimly handed me a yellow note.

**Rory's Rags**

**11:00 pm, tomorrow**

**Come alone, detective, or I conduct my experiments ahead of schedule**

Un. Fucking. Believable. This maniac wants to play me! At least he gave me an address. But no back up. Otherwise… I looked at Cass who came round my desk and hugged me in sympathy. "Well… at least we're both dead now." I squeezed her hand. "Not if I can help it, baby. Not if I can help it." She opened my bedroom door and hugged the edge as she went in. "My gallant knight~. Maybe I can cheer you up…" I smiled at her offer, almost in disbelief, and I damn near shot myself for refusing. "Sorry doll, I better keep looking for anything that can give us an edge over this guy. When we get out of this, I'll be more than happy to pay up." She sagged mockingly. "Your loss…  _ detective _ . Your unbelievably stupid loss." Right. Unbelievably stupid.

It was midday when the second note slipped under my door. I tried to do some more investigating but I spent all night staring at the first note and the second one was even worse. I still have no idea how he figured out where I live. I ran down the hall, slamming the second note from the Butcher into the table and ripped open the front door of my building. Nothing. Just people going about their day. No suspicious figures. No one who stuck out in particular. I went back inside, glum and defeated. No one saw or heard anything of course. Assumed it was another client. Just my luck. I tacked up both notes on the evidence board, which now includes the most messy, incoherent pile of evidence I have ever had the pleasure of creating. At one point, Cass woke up and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, resting her head on my shoulder. She slept rather well for someone about to be murdered tomorrow. I didn't know what we were. I had feelings for her, obviously, and she clearly had feelings for me. Don't need to be a detective to see that. But neither of us wanted to say it. Maybe neither of us  _ needed  _ to say it. I wanted to kiss her but it didn't feel right just yet. So I just reached up and stroked her hair and looked at the evidence board while she held me close and planted kisses on my neck. We lay in bed for hours, just… holding each other. Neither of us dared fall asleep in case we woke up to find the other with black veins on their chest. Or if we didn't wake up at all. We held each other under the covers and listened to the rain as my deadline grew closer. Cass had to leave for her shift at the jazz club. Apparently, Dinah had faith in me too. And then the time arrived. I holstered my revolver. I donned my hat. I flipped the lights and left the office.

Rory's Rags was a foreclosed bespoke suit store on the Lower East side. As suspected, the front door was open. It was dim, but not too bad. A few dust covered suits still lay hanging on the racks. Most had holes in them but some were still undamaged and quite nice. If you washed them. Several times. I moved further into the shop. The back rooms were empty and I descended into the basement, where, sure enough, I found food, clothes and a bed. No other furnishings or decoration aside from stacks of crates. Four plain brown brick walls. A thin, dirty sheet served as a bed cover. More like a bad jail cell than a makeshift living space. "Welcome, detective." The hoarse, deep voice was tinny and static. I didn't notice the PA system in the dark of the basement. "I apologise for the conditions in which you find yourself, I'm sure you understand why we couldn't be somewhere nicer. You're much shorter than I thought you'd be." I drew my revolver and backed up into the room, slowly looking all around. "No, it's fine buddy." I spoke out, cautiously choosing my words. "You should see my place. Who are you? What do you want Cass? Why me? Why are you doing with those experiments? What's with all the bodies on meat hooks in the warehouse? Why not come here and face me like a man?" He laughed, a sick, grating thing that only sounded worse through the speakers. "Aren't you supposed to be the "World's Greatest Detective", Miss Row? And you've still not figured out these basic questions." I kept my focus on the door but started looking through boxes. "Walk me through it, why don't you?"

"Well, what would Miss Cain be paying you for then?" Yeah OK, that's a great point actually. "All right, you freak. I'll flex the sleuthing muscles a bit. To start with, the bodies on hooks. That place is supposed to be abandoned. So you can't burn them regularly. Otherwise the active exhaust vents raises suspicion. Every now and again, however, ah it's probably some kids messing around." I opened a crate. Just vials and beakers. Some Bunsen burners. "Very good. Tell me about the experiments." The fridge had cold foods only. Snacks, fruit, yogurt. Guess using an oven down here might not be the best idea. Judging by the burn stains on the ceiling over a corner of the room, this was probably learned the hard way. "You're crazy?"

"Strike one, detective."

"Disgraced. Kicked out of your academic institute. Want to continue your unethical experiments but you gotta be secretive. What happens when I hit strike three?"

"Maybe you aren't so incompetent. Strike three and I fill this basement with fear gas. At that high a level of exposure, you go insane from the effects and your heart beats from stress and fear so fast it gives out or you claw your face off at the sight of whatever night terrors your mind can produce or both. I am intrigued to find out which." Ah. I put away the gun and walked around, hands shoved in my pockets. Something told me bullets wouldn't work against gas. "Do you know who I am?"

"Bloodstream Butcher. Chemist. Murderer. Not necessarily in that order. Beyond that, nothing. Someone I put away when I was a cop maybe." He scoffed. "Well I won't deduct points for that, we've actually never met before. But this title dubbed on me is so ugly. I prefer… Scarecrow." OK, that… is actually better. "So that can only mean you've singled me out because Cass came to me. You'd do the same if she sought out a member of the police or a random citizen."

"Correct. Two questions left."

"You won't face me because… you're a coward?"

"Strike two."

"Because you're not here?"

"Safe and sound in an undisclosed location."

"And you picked Cass because…?"

"That's a story for another time." Hmm. "OK, Scarecrow. Two more questions. Why bring me here to have a conversation? Why not just kill me?" There was a gentle crackling on the PA as he considered his answer. "To tell you that the next time we see each other, you will watch as I subject your girlfriend to her deepest darkest horrors and then, my toxin will turn to you. You're free to leave, please do take any of the suits upstairs with you." I opened the door. "I'm not afraid of you pal." He chuckled. "You will be." I scoffed and jogged up the narrow stone staircase, grabbing a dark blue pinstripe suit off the rack that had been fortunate enough to escape the misfortune of rats and moths.

As I stumbled out of the shop, I saw a woman across the street running through the thick sheet of rain. It was Cassie! I chased after her. "Hey!" She didn't stop to look back, only ran harder. "Hey, Ms. Cain, stop! It's me, Harper! Harper Row!" That did it, and she spun around. Her mascara looked like black fingernails dragged down her face and as I got closer, I froze. She… she was injured. A puffy, busted lip and an angry, bruised eye. Blood trickling from her nose. Minor grazes, yes, but still harsh to look at, nonetheless. The blood from her lip streaked down her chin as she grinned then winced. "Harper!" she sighed happily. Then she wailed harder as she cried my name again, only this time in anguish, not relief. "Oh, Harper!" She sunk to her knees, splashing down in a large puddle, and clutched at my legs. I pulled her up. "Hey! Hey Cass, what happened, who hurt you?!" She sniffled. "Oh, just… just some muggers… got back from my late shift… went down a dark alley… stupid decision… in Gotham of all places..." she continued her mumbling as I wiped the mascara away and hailed a cab. She was lying, of course. Her purse was soaked, like the rest of her clothes but otherwise untouched, but I thought it best not to confront her right now. We got in and I gave my address. We exchanged no words, just listened to the quiet crash of water on metal. About 3 blocks away from my apartment, she silently looked at me with those dazzling brown eyes, brushed her thumb against my lips and kissed me, deeply, more sending a message than anything else. I kissed her back, wrapping her in my arms, wanting to protect her from all the dangers of this city, the dangers that follow me around every turn, yet feeling just as small as she did, throwing out the same message - "I love you". As I whispered those three words, those three all-powerful words used every day in such unique ways every time, a few tears ran down her cheeks again and she kissed me more. We got to my apartment and she slammed me up against my door, closing it, burying her face in my neck. Her hand glided down into my pants, her fingers working slowly and smoothly against my crotch, while her other focused on removing my soaked jacket, hat and shirt. Gotta admit, I was scared I would crush her wrist with my thighs, I was so tense, but her gentle movements relaxed me soon enough. "Do you feel that…  _ detective _ ? Can you intuit what I've known since the moment I stepped into your office? Can you piece together what's been building inside every second I was with you? Can you make an educated guess as to how I feel about you?" I'd been with men and women before but none of them could have matched this raw passion. She was pure fire. She thrusted her fingers inside me and I jolted, closing my eyes and grabbing the side of the doorframe for stability. I took a deep breath and looked her dead in the eyes as her fingers electrified me. "Of course I knew it, doll. Your eyes were telling me this whole time. You love me." My detective alarm bells were sounding off like they do when there's a massive clue missing, something urgent my gut wanted to tell me, something that could save lives - my life, my client's life or the life of a civilian - but for once, I ignored them. How could I focus on what my gut wanted when my mind wanted her lacy underwear off, when my lips wanted her cool skin, damp from the rain on them, when my hands wanted her enticing legs, her defined collarbone, her soft cheeks, her scarred arms, her perky breasts,  _ her _ ? I could feel her wince in pain as I grazed her lip cut, forgetting myself. I pulled back, apologizing quickly every time. She ignored me, pushed past it and aggressively put her hands and lips somewhere new every time. Eventually, she could toy with me no longer, and with frightening speed tore off the rest of my clothes and hers, and carried me into the bedroom, her lips never once leaving my body. Everything she did, from the tiniest, needle-like stab of a bite to the harshest thrusts of her fingers made me powerless against her. Even when she rested back and I used my tongue and fingers to pleasure her, I was still inferior. But I didn't mind. And I didn't care. Not that she was my client. Not that she had a supposed death sentence tomorrow. Just that I loved this woman. And this woman, riding my face and screaming in pleasure like we had no neighbours who wouldn't ask me uncomfortable questions when I went to go collect tomorrow's mail, this beautiful woman who hired me to find her killer to be, she loved me too.

An empty sheet greeted my hand as I felt around for warmth and I shot up in a bout of panic. Not bothering or caring to get dressed I bolted out of the bedroom. Gone. Taken, most likely. I pulled my clothes on and checked the chamber on my revolver. There's only one place she could be and I flagged a cab to the abandoned hospital. No time to call Grayson to make an arrest.

Of course there had to be traffic. Of course. I got out of the cab, tossed some dollars at the driver and sprinted the last three blocks, kicking down the rickety door of the old hospital. Love may be the most powerful emotion in the world but it makes you stupid as hell and as I sank to the ground, the last thing my blurry vision captured was a man in a patchwork mask standing over me with a metal pipe in hand. Scarecrow.

When I awoke, I was in a chair, my wrists and ankles bound by rope. I struggled, of course, to what end, I didn’t know. My shuffling alerted Scarecrow, who was busy hunched over a table. “Ah. You’re awake finally. I was afraid I hit you too hard, but I’m pleased to see my experiment will be unhindered.” He was wearing the patchwork sack mask but I could hear in his voice that he was feeling the closest thing to joy possible, not that I’d been round him much to back that up, but he didn’t strike me as the smiling type all the same. He was leaned against a table, empty, for now but no doubt he had some tools hidden away to poke and prod at me then observe the effects. I’ll tell you this much, no drugs were needed to make me scared. “Ah yes, I almost forgot. My research assistant. If you would bring out my equipment please, Miss Cain.” Time crawled to a stop and my blood ran cold. If he wanted to do his sick experiments, now was the time. Fear, anger, betrayal. Cass most certainly saw all of these flash across my face as she stepped out from the plastic partitioning wielding a tray of needles, syringes and note papers. “You see, detective, when I told you Cassandra was a story for another time, I was evidently referring to this moment. When I had you in my grasp and…” I tuned out his monologue and started thrashing wildly in the chair, my vision red. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to pump her full of every drug she had on that rusted silver platter and beat the shit out of her. In a brief moment of clarity, my brain told me to deal with her later and focus on the scientist. “I found Cassandra literally living in a dumpster, gnawing on 3 day old bread. At first it was a perfect opportunity for experiment. I had, at the time, not yet delved deeply into the fear that hides behind the veil of anger. A little girl cast out onto the streets and left to fend for herself. I could smell the terror. She was a very bitey child, but she quickly learned to let me work, though sometimes this had to be learned with more… direct means.” It all came crashing together now. I despised myself for not seeing it sooner. The aversion to needles. The reason Scarecrow picked Cass. The vagueness of the warning card. The anonymous tip. The injuries when I ran into her. Not a mugging. Abuse from her pseudo father for disobedience. She let her emotions get in the way of the plan and… Well, that’s why I work alone. That needle-like stab when we made love. That wasn't her teeth, that was actually a needle! She drugged me! And that kiss… the kiss in the cab, it wasn't a kiss of passion, it was a kiss of sorrow. She knew! She knew what was going to happen! What she had to do… She  _ was _ trying to send me a message, but the message wasn't "I love you", it was "get out while you can,  _ detective _ . I'll only bring you pain." But I didn't hold it against her because I saw it. The silent tears as she watched helplessly, and I knew,  _ I knew  _ that she wanted no part in this. Not just with me, with everyone they've pulled this on, since the murders started. And that she loved me. That part was no facade. No trick. No act. No lure. When we spent that night together, every "I love you" had more meaning than the last. That's why I was the one to say it first. She was trying to work up the courage to even think about the idea loving  _ anyone _ . Of even being capable of love, worthy of love. Any ill intent I had towards her vanished, leaving me weak and hollow. “Cassandra. Go and get the latest formula.” She looked at me, tearful and scurried off to the back room. “The victim wasn’t her. It was never her. It was me.” Crane nodded, fascinated. “Why?” He placed the syringe down. “Not quite correct. Originally, yes, it was Cassandra fated to die. She was becoming insolent. Disobedient, too disobedient for her own good. But then something happened.”

“She hired me.”

“No!” I hissed as he slashed my cheek with a scalpel. “One detective I can handle. I have dealt with more than enough detectives. They bore me. What went wrong,  _ you insufferable fool _ , is she fell in love with you!” I screamed as he injected me with a wrist mounted syringe. My head immediately started to pound, a thin layer of sweat quickly formed on my forehead and my vision began to blur and objects trailed behind themselves, as if I had moved them but their soul failed to catch up. Scarecrow’s voice was echoey and deafening, roaring in my skull. He started to morph and crack and grow and I started to hyperventilate as… my god… he grew wings! And fangs! Almighty Christ, his skin flickered and darkened as he turned into a creature of the night, black, terrible.. a.a... a bat! I… I hate. _ Bats.  _ His voice was still human albeit with a high pitched screeching quality to it. “But when one door closes… I knew Cassandra had one more use for me. She could show me how much fear she feels when she loses the one she cares about the most.” Cassandra’s name swam up in my disoriented mind and I clung to it for dear life, hoping for a shred of something real, and in doing so, it clicked. He grabbed my cheeks as I started to laugh, a painful effort that gave me a migraine, and leaned in so I could smell his rancid breath. His eyes were fierce and red, the air around him pulsating and humming eerily, tar pouring out of the mouth of his burlap sack. My heart nearly stopped. “What is so funny?” he hissed. “Cassie… Should… Have been back… By now…” I gasped out. His red eyes narrowed as he hissed out a “no!” He flickered out of my vision, here one moment, gone the next. My head pounded as a sharp clang rattled in my skull and another demon entered my vision. Horns as big as my arm, teeth jagged and misshaped. Claws filed to a dagger point. The demon said something but I couldn’t comprehend it. I just shut my eyes and started to cry. I felt the demon’s hot and heavy breath against my skin, a claw digging into the crook of my arm and as it pressed its cracked lips to my cheek I opened my eyes again. The horns slowly shrunk into its head, replaced by dirty, messy black hair. The red eyes returned to a hazel brown and the demon shrunk, eventually returning to my Cassie. “What…” She shushed me as she frantically untied my legs. “I gave you an antidote. I’ve been working on it secretly for months, ever since I figured out Jon planned to off me.” I was no longer terrified of everything in my field of vision but my heart was still racing, I had a killer migraine (sorry) and I was groggy as hell. I swayed around gently in delirium as the adrenaline quickly wore off. “Who… Jon…” She moved to the other side of the room and frantically sifted through beakers, picking them up, holding them to the light until she found a clean one and turned on the sink, filling it and returning to me. “Jonathan Crane, your jailor.” She fed me the water and I downed it all in one go as she fiddled with my arm restraints. “Why… trust… you...” She paused and pressed her forehead against mine. “I… I’m sorry. I understand you’re angry now but let’s work it out after we get him.” My strength was returning slowly but I was still woozy so I just nodded at her. She had just got my legs when her hair was yanked back. She screamed and arched her back as Crane jammed a needle into her neck. I didn’t trust Cassie anymore but I wasn’t about to let her die. Summoning all the energy I could, I charged at Crane and tackled him, bringing him down. I mounted him and started to rain punches into his nose and teeth but I couldn’t keep going. I was just… Just so tired. He pushed me off and gave me a taste of my own medicine. I tried to keep my hands up but in the end I could do nothing but lay there and take it. On the brink of consciousness, I saw it. The metal pipe Cass used to take him out. God, I need to fight. But the antidote was so draining. Some teeth are missing. Split lip. My nose is broken. Some blood vessels in my eye burst probably. I hear Cass whimpering in the corner, seeing some unimaginable horrors. Gotta stay conscious. Gotta. Reach. A little. Further. The cool steel on my palm gave me all the strength I needed and I swung. He collapsed, smacking into the side of the table. Blood began to leak from his head. Scrambling forward, I collapsed onto him, my fingers finding his neck. Out but alive, thank god. Not for long and neither would I if we both didn’t get to a hospital soon.

Tossing the pipe to one side, I dragged my limp body up and shuffled over to Cass. “Cassandra. It’s me. Harper? Y’know… the detective you lied to and betrayed?” She just hid her face and rocked back and forth, shaking. I sighed deeply. “I don’t blame you for that. I know you were in danger and you had no choice. I… I get it. But it doesn’t fix how I feel. I’m still mad. We could have listened to Dick, have you put in protective custody. But we can talk about that later. Do you have more antidote?” Nothing. I knelt down and cradled her cheek. “Cassie? The antidote? The one you made? I know you’re scared right now but I can make it go away. I just need you to focus. Where is the antidote you made in case Scarecrow got to you? Do you have more?” By some miracle a tiny part of her deep down heard me and pointed beyond the plastic screen. I got up and made my way in. I wanted to sleep. It took me a while but I eventually found the splintered crate she had hidden the antidote in along with some clean syringes. I filled one a quarter of the way and injected her with it then handcuffed Crane to the table. God, I was so tired. I forced my eyes to stay open as I watched hers clear. She stopped shivering and I sat up against the wall next to her.

She broke down into my lap sobbing as I finally got to fall into blackness.

Sunlight streaked onto one half of my face, the other half being completely covered in bandages. An IV was hooked to my arm. I groaned as I craned my neck to see Cassie, Dick and, oddly, Stephanie. Cassie hugged me. Dick smiled and nodded. Stephanie blew me a kiss. Dick stood and donned his hat. “I just stayed to make sure you’d wake up. Friend or no friend, I still have a patrol to do. Ms. Cain told us everything and she’s been allowed to go free after some extensive debating in the court. Dr. Crane is in custody now and he won’t be leaving for a long time. Nice job cuffing him, kiddo. Obviously the Chief will want to talk to you. You disobeyed orders.” I did my best to give a toothy smile. “But he’s not going to, right?” Dick started to walk out. “Not in a million years. I’ll leave you lovely ladies to it.” I looked at Stephanie. “Did you want to make sure I’d wake up too?” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Why, of course,  _ detective _ . You never called. Had to make sure you were OK.” I chuckled despite the burning in my throat. “Did she tell you to say that or is Cassie closer to you than she let on?” Stephanie also stood, extinguishing her cigarette. “I’ll leave that for you to decide.” She faced Cassandra. “Do you mind?” Cass shrugged. “She’s been through a lot. She can have one. But make sure it’s JUST one, Brown.” Steph giggled then cupped my face and kissed me, taking care to be gentle so as not to aggravate the injuries on my lips. “I feel better already.” I joked, stroking her cheek. She nodded and left, leaving the two of us alone. We didn’t even look at each other for a few minutes. “I guess you didn’t hear me because I said it when you were drugged up on fear toxin but I get why you did it.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m still mad though.”

“Yeah.”

“You get why, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How long was I out?”

“Couple days.”

“You’re basically homeless now, right?”

“I’ve been sleeping at the jazz club. Dinah’s good to her girls.”

“You want a job?”

“I- what?” I finally brought myself to look her in the eyes. “A job. With me. You’re good at the detective thing. And you need a place to live.” She stared at me in disbelief. “I thought-”

“Yes, I’m mad, I’m not cruel. I’ll get over it. You can live with me, if you want and I could use a partner.”

“Harper, I don’t know what to say.” I held out my hand and she took it gratefully. “Say that you understand and agree that it is absolutely not in my fiscal ability to pay you a single cent for your PI responsibilities and you will need to keep your jazz club position to help me pay rent.” She laughed and I laughed with her. “Grab my apartment keys from the reception, go to my place, talk to Harley - you remember her, right? My landlady? - tell her what’s going on. She’s harsh but she’s good people. As long as you say you’ve got a steady job and will help with rent, she’ll let you stay til the end of time and she won’t drive rent up.” SHe stood and kissed me on the forehead then headed for the door, lingering on the knob. “Harper… When you say you need a partner…”

“Right now, only in crime.” Her voice came through dejected and sad. “Oh… right… I understand.”

“Hey Cass.” She turned and I smiled at her. “We’ll get there.” She moved out into the corridor, smirking. “See you around, World’s Greatest  _ Detective _ .”

##  And so, Harper finds her sleuthing partner in her heroic lady love!

##  But crime never sleeps in Gotham City! And being a detective is busy work!

##  Where will Harper's adventures take her next? What dastardly deeds will she stop? 

##  Harper Row will return in the next instalment of…

##  Harper Row, World's Greatest Detective!

##  Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, admittedly this fic isn't my finest work and could have gone a lot better but still I had fun! I'mma focus on other fics for the time being but I plan to rebrand this series as a trio of short stories involving Cass and Steph in their own AU adventures, not just Harper. Won't be started for a while though. This is my first time writing crime so when I return to Harper I will try and come up with a more coherent and compelling mystery.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the whole 20s detective aesthetic and I listen to The Thrilling Adventure Hour a lot so I based this fanfic off of radio serials from the 30s to the 50s. There's also not a whole bunch of more serious works involving these two, which is a shame! Harper is criminally underrated but that's what fanfic is for.
> 
> See you around, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel x


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